


Faultless

by Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Academy Era, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Best Friends, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Dubious Consent, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Oral Sex, Pining, Pon Farr, Pon Farr Inducing Drugs, Roommates, Smart James T. Kirk, Starfleet Academy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-27 08:20:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16698817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox/pseuds/Themadwomanwhoisunfortunatelylackingabox
Summary: This wasn't how Jim had been planning to spend his 21st birthday, when he convinced Spock to go drinking with him. Sure, they weren't the kind to go to parties, but once wouldn't hurt, right?Wrong.





	Faultless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyele](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyele/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, darling <3\. I hope this fulfills your trope-y Spirk fic needs :)

To be fair, it wasn’t Jim’s fault. It wasn’t like he’d meant for this to happen. Hell, if you’d told him, two years ago when he and Spock first ended up as roommates, he wouldn’t ever have even believed he’d end up in this situation. It wasn’t like he was expecting to spend his twenty-first birthday with a lap full of horny, drunk Vulcan trying desperately to get into his pants.

“Jim,” Spock panted in his ear, so close that Jim could feel the moisture in his breath—and oh god, okay, Spock needed to stop that right now—“Jim please,” he cried, fingernails scrabbling at the fly to Jim’s jeans.

“Spock,” he said, prying Spock’s hands away from his body. “Spock, listen to me. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I burn for thee,” He whispered, instead of any form of logical answer, plastering their fingers together and arching like an images straight out of Jim’s wet dreams. 

Oh god, not now, boner. Gently, he pushed Spock off him and back onto his bed. “I’m gonna call Bones, okay?”

“Jim,” he moaned, hands chasing after him. 

Jim hopped away, not exactly gracefully, and narrowly avoiding tripping over his back pack that he left on the floor of their dorm room, but he managed to get away from the handsy Vulcan, at least. 

Of course, the handsy Vulcan in question immediately was sitting up to chase after him, but still. Points for effort. “No,” Jim said, backtracking to the door as fast as he could.

“You would seek out McCoy’s presence over mine?” He said, unexpectedly—angry? Hurt? Possessive? He couldn’t tell. Spock’s emotions weren’t normally so…overt. It kinda freaked him out, but like also turned him on? Was it possible to be both turned on and afraid at the same time? Apparently. “Right. You’re right,” He completely did not squeak. 100%. No way. He stalled for time. “But, uh, we still, need, uh, supplies?” He lied, but was apparently blushing enough to be convincing anyways.

“Supplies,” Spock repeated, eyes going immeasurably darker. Then he shook himself out of his trance. “I’ll go.”

“No!” There was no way in hell he was letting Spock in public like this. “You’re burning up,” he said instead. “Stay here and rest.”

Spock opened his mouth to say something else, but Jim cut him off.

“Spock,” he said, swallowing but stepping closer to him, batting his eyelashes like he was a heroine in some kind of old Hollywood, 20th century film. “Let me take care of you.”

Spock only stared at him, wide eyed and slack-jawed, like Jim might as well be God himself. He softened, tugging Jim closer until they embraced, nuzzling into Jim’s neck with a fondness. “All right,’ Spock said. “But if some challenger lays his hands on you, Know I will rip apart his bones and leave his corpse for the le matya.”

How the fuck did Jim find that sweet. How the fuck did that make Jim hot. “Okay,” Jim said, extracting himself from Spock’s iron grip. Fuck, they really weren’t kidding when they said Vulcans had three times the strength of humans, huh?

“Return soon, ashayam,” Spock said, even as Jim scrambled out the door.

Still, Jim waited not only until their door was closed and locked, but also until he was three floors away before calling Bones.

“Jim? What are you calling me for?” 

“It’s Spock,” Jim said, swallowing past the lump in his throat that hadn’t had time to appear until now. “I think he’s been roofied.”

* * *

 

“So let me get this straight,” Bones said, and Jim didn’t even need to see his face on the other side of the comm to see the exact, world weary and disbelieving expression he’d be wearing. “Some bastards made some fucked up comments about Spock, and within the hour he’s possessive, territorial, and determined to have sex with you—more than usual, at least.”

“For the last time, Bones, you know Spock and I aren’t like that.”

“And you say he’s feverish?” Bones continued, as if Jim hadn’t even spoken.

‘Yeah, it’s like he’s burning up,” Jim said. “Why, is that important?” 

On the other side of the comm, Bones let out a deep, deep sigh. “Well, fuck.”

“What? What is it?”

“Listen, Jim,” he said, “If anyone finds out I told you what I’m about to tell you, I’m gonna be in deep shit, alright? Literally no one outside of Vulcan is supposed to know this, and only like 10% of Starfleet medical are allowed to either.”

“Wait, what.”

“Jim, it looks like Spock’s been thrown into an accelerated pon farr. Pon farr itself is dangerous enough, but normally it’s an event in a Vulcan’s life that’s been planned for, hidden underneath a ridiculous amount of ceremony because of how taboo it is.”

“Taboo?”

“It strips Vulcans of their logic, makes them into complete creatures of emotion and instinct,” Bones said. “Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty taboo in Vulcan culture, Jim.”

“Alright, Alright,” he said. “But all I have to do is wait it out, right? You said this is normal?”

“No. Jim, pon farr is dangerous even when it’s been planned for. There’s a dangerous level of hormones playing with his brain chemistry right now; if it’s not stopped, he will die, Jim.”

“What? Die?” He couldn’t breathe. Spock, die? Impossible. It was Spock. The concept wasn’t even imaginable. “Then tell me how we end it!”

“There’s only two ways I know of,” Bones said. “He kills someone—”

“Spock? Kill someone?” Bones was joking, right? All Vulcans were pacifists, everyone knew that. Then again, he had seemed strangely capable of killing. It was almost scary, how he had looked before Jim left.

“Obviously we’re not going to let him commit murder,” Bones said. “So it’ll have to be the other option. Jim, you need to have sex with Spock.”

“What.”

“The only way to stop the fever is through the hormones released during sex, or killing. Pon farr is on its most essential level, a mating instinct, Jim.”

404 Error, Jim not found. “I can’t just—I can’t just sleep with Spock,” he protested, a million and one emotions warring inside of him. All of the reasons he hadn’t acted before made their appearance: It would ruin everything. Spock would be disgusted by his human emotion, he’d never look at him the same way again. He’d demand a room transfer and he’d stop being Jim’s friend and Jim would just have to be alone for the rest of his time at the academy, friendless and loveless and stupid. He’d hate him forever, and and— “He can’t even consent.” He said, some sick feeling growing in his gut. 

“You think I don’t know that?”

“I can’t do that to him, Bones—”

“Listen, Jim,” Bones said, his voice growing almost soft. “If someone asked Spock, I’m certain he’d always choose life over death, no matter what. He’ll forgive you, alright?” He said. “I’d do it myself if I could. But under normal circumstances, Vulcan’s can only go throughpon farr with someone they’ve been bonded to: it just doesn’t work otherwise,” he said. “But if he’s obviously willing to go through this with you, that means there’s a high chance of it actually working.” He paused, sighing. “Jim, if you don’t do this, he will die.”

Die. There was that word again, and all its implications. Spock couldn’t die. Jim could never let that happen. He could never be worth anything, if he let Spock die and did nothing to stop it. “Okay,” he said, ignoring the nausea rolling over him. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank god.” Bones said. “But Jim? You do…have everything you need, right?”

There was no way in hell he was going to be having the safe sex talk with Bones. Nope. This conversation was canceled, thank you. Not happening. 

“Have you ever even—”

“I’m hanging up now, Bones.”

“Jim!”

He ended the call, turning to back to their room before thinking better of it. Right. He’d told Spock he was getting supplies. Which, if he was doing this, he’d probably actually need something more than just the lackluster, nearly empty tube of lube he used to jack off with whenever Spock left for linguistics club. 

There was a replicated at the end of the hall, if he remembered correctly.

—

The minute he unlocked the door, Spock wrenched it open and yanked him inside by the front of his shirt. “Jim,” Spock hissed in his ear, and holy fuck, how was Jim supposed to survive this? Spock was so hot. Literally. He was burning up against Jim’s chest, and his breath was warm on Jim’s ear and Jesus fuck. “I burn for thee.” Then his hands were peeling up Jim’s shirt and—chances of survival were down to zero. 

“Spo- _ck_ ,” he tried to say, but it devolved into a whine the minute Spock’s hands startled crawling down his chest.

“So beautiful,” Spock purred against his neck, hitching Jim’s legs around his waist before carrying him effortlessly— _effortlessly_!—to his bed.

It really wasn’t fair, Jim thought, in some corner of his head that wasn’t overtaken by how fucking hot that was. He’d never even seen Spock work out before, and considering how they spent practically every moment together, that just meant he never actually did work out at all. Fuck Vulcans and their stupid inherent muscles.

Which, he realized as his body collided with the nest of blankets on Spock’s be, he was actually gonna do. What the fuck. What the fuck.

But then Spock was legit kissing his way down Jim’s stomach and all capacities of rational thought were lost completely. “Spock—Spock wait,” he gasped. 

Spock stopped, staring up from where he was—was he about to undo Jim’s zipper with his teeth? _His teeth?_ Jim had to stifle a whimper.

“I—uh—“ he fisted his hands intothe sheets. “I just wanted you to know that, ah—“ Spock started sucking a hickey into his hipbone. “I’m real sorry and I promise to god that I’m only doing this because you’ll die if I won’t. And, uh,” fuck, fuck, was Spock growling? God. “Just—please don’t hate me for this, okay? Please. I couldn’t—” _Live with myself if I ruined this._

_“_ Ashayam _,”_ Spock said, caressing his face. “I could never hate you.” 

And that, that almost sounded like Spock. His Spock, not horny-out-of-his-mind-on-weird-Vulcan-roofies Spock. It felt almost real, for just a second, and Jim’s breath caught in his throat from how much he wanted.

Spock kissed him, then warm and unyielding and. Okay, Jim had been kissed before, alright? He had, back in high school when everyone just knew everyone, and Jim was hot shit. He’d kissed people before, a few guys and girls over spin the bottle, and he’d even had a girlfriend. He’d kissed people.

None of it compared to kissing Spock. It was almost like the ending to the Princess Bride: _In the history of humanity there had been five kisses rated the most romantic,_ and all that; if, of course, they also happened to be about the dirtiest hottest kisses in the world, with a hefty amount of grinding going on.

Jim had to hold back a moan, arching his hips up against the friction. Wait. No. He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying this, damn it. He was making sure Spock didn’t die. He wasn’t going to take any more advantage than he already was. He wasn’t going to enjoy this, when he was practically—practically—he couldn’t even think about it. He felt ill. But then—

“Jim,” Spock said, shucking off Jim’s jeans with an ease that was honestly enviable. Those were Jim’s fuck-me jeans, the ones that were hell to get on and off but made his ass look amazing, the ones he specifically wore tonight because he knew he didn’t stand a chance with Spock and he wanted to get laid. 

_Well_ , he thought, almost hysterically as Spock got his—goddamn amazing, why didn’t he spend more time extolling their virtues?—hands on Jim’s cock. _Happy birthday to me._

“Jim,” Spock moaned, repeating it over and over again like it was holy. “Please, I need—”

“What is it?”

“I would not have you hurt, ashayam,” He said, and Jim wouldn’t have guessed what he meant if he hadn’t then emphatically kneaded Jim’s ass. Oh. Right.

He scrambled for the lube and condoms he had grabbed from the replicator earlier. Luckily Spock’s bed was closest to the door, considering how both had been unceremoniously dropped the minute Spock had pushed him up against the wall. 

When he finally returned, lube packets in hand, Spock had already stripped completely, and was staring at Jim like he was made of chocolate and Spock had been starving for years.

“T’hy’la,” Spock whispered again, and wow, Jim was really beginning to regret not taking Spock up on his offer to teach Jim Vucan. Especially if it sounded as hot as it did now—fuck, no, Jim. This wasn’t hot. This was just helping your buddy out, Jim. Your completely platonic buddy, who you are completely platonically helping out so he doesn’t die. Your completely platonic roommate who you absolutely have not been in love with for the past two years. Nope. Not at all. “You are sublime,” Spock said, and it almost sounded like he meant it, in the old fashioned way sublime used to mean: heavenly, but natural, something almost unbelievable in its perfection. Something precious. 

Jim had never felt beautiful in his life. Handsome, yes. Hot, on occasion. But beautiful? Not once. 

But then Spock was sinking to his knees and tearing open a packet of lube, simultaneously wallowing Jim down and stretching him all at once, and all concept of thought disappeared from Jim’s head.

Oh.

Oh _God_.

Jim couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. So that was what that felt like, Jesus Christ. His hands fisted in Spock’s hair, and then released—what were you supposed to do with your hands during this, anyway? It wasn’t like there was a class on _How to Get a Blowjob, 101._ Was he supposed to pull Spock’s hair? Was that rude? It certainly wouldn’t help his plan to not enjoy this, but—Spock did something sinful with his tongue—oh fuck it, he wasn’t like he could help it. He fisted his hands in Spock’s hair, and bit back a moan. One finger turned to two, and Spock’s mouth moved in the perfect way

He hardly even noticed that by the time Spock pulled off of him, two had somehow become three. “Don’t stop,” Jim whined, arching his back.

But Spock just pressed his hands into Jim’s hips, hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to leave bruises—-and fuck if Jim’s dick hadn’t twitched at the thought of that, already embarrassingly close and achingly hard.“I would have you now, Jim,” Spock said, with a voie that was just on the verge of breaking.

Jim glanced at him, saw the way his eyes were glazed over, the way his breath hitched and his muscles trembled. Fuck, had Spock been holding back this entire time? Because he didn’t look alright. He looked like he was falling apart at the seams. His eyes stared into Jim,dark and sharp and wild, but at the same time, just a little bit fragile. Oh, Spock.

_Forgive me for this,_ Jim thought, before taking his hand up to Spock’s cheek and whispering, “I’m yours.” It was both true and untrue. Jim was his, but Spock would never want him in his right mind. “I’m yours, I always have been.” He said, searching for the right words. What was that thing Spock kept calling him, again? “T’hy’la,” he whispered.

He knew he probably fucked up the pronunciation beyond repair, but apparently it was good enough for Spock, who let out an inhuman noise at the sound. He growled, something dark and primal, and then he was pressing into Jim.

Jim had imagined Spock fucking him multiple times by now. He hadn’t meant to—how fucked up was that—but it wasn’t like he could help his dreams, and even if he felt scummy afterwards, it was always the hottest thing in the world.

Still, That was nothing compared to the real thing. In fact, this entire day seemed to serve as a reminder that Jim’s imagination sucked, because Spock was amazing. 

He was relentless, and all Jim could do was just take it. Every snap of his hips found his prostate and Jim had ascended and reached Nirvana. This was the best night he had ever had and—oh fuck, Spock was murmuring straight into Jim’s ear, an incomprehensible mix of both Vulcan and standard, but fuck if it wasn’t the hottest thing Jim had heard in his life.

“Mine,” Spock growled, snapping his hips against Jim’s. “Mine,” he said, kissing Jim with a bruising amount of force.

And then Jim was coming, embarrassingly quick, spilling all over both of their chests. Spock groaned against his lips, but his hips were stuttering, too, and he came as well.

Spock rolled off of him, pulling Jim into his arms and pressing him against his chest, unbelievably close, the only way two people could cuddle on a tiny twin bed. Jim should probably leave, he figured, his stomach twisting not knots at the concept of the morning after. But Spock’s arms were strong and holding him in place, and Jim was way too boneless to move, anyway. Besides, what if Spock needed him again? Bones hadn’t given him an estimate for how long this would last.

Of course, that wasn’t the reason he was leaving, and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Spock had pulled him into his arms, pressings kisses into his hair, and for a moment, Jim let himself pretend. Just for a moment.


End file.
